A wail, a scream,
How wrong must it seem?
Barkface's features twisted, he's mad,
Spottedleaf was oh so sad.
She squealed at his paws,
Groaning with the loss,
And with a heavy heart
Felt the killing death mark.
Firepaw found her on her side,
And he really could not lie,
He loved her so much, oh,
He wished he had not let her go.
Spottedleaf died with glory,
And Firepaw's heart beats this sad story.
As the spirit watches from above,
The medicine cat cries at his love.
Hopes and dreams twisted into fate,
Spottedleaf's body rests where she was laid.
The song of life and death still rings its sickly tone,
Almost with the blood reek, surely chilling your bones.
Firepaw still yearns for the beautiful she-cat,
Although with Sandstorm is where his fate sat.
A crude, unnecessary death,
From Barkface's heart, pity had left.
A nightmare, a dream,
A fantasy it can't seem.
A heart pounding in ears,
There is nothing else to hear.
Sorrow and pain tangled together,
Spottedleaf's love, and scent, still rests on the heather.
Don't glance up at Silverpelt, for a star, a clue,
Look there – her face rests in the moon.